


Soda and Stitches

by FestiveFerret



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Bitty/Jack Never Happened, Flirting, Fluffy, Flustered Bitty, Getting Together, Hockey Royalty, House Party, Jack and Parse don't know each other, Jack is a Falconer, Jack/Kent Never Happened, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Parse is Too Smooth, meet cute, minor hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 15:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18252224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret
Summary: Bitty opened the last door in the hallway and lo and behold, it was a bathroom, but there was already someone in it."Oh gosh, excuse me! I'm so sorry." Bitty started to close the door, but then he realized that the guy standing in front of the mirror - thank god, fully clothed - was none other than Kent Parson. "Oh my."





	Soda and Stitches

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo I was rereading my fav Bitty/Parse fics, which led to rereading SummerFrost, because obv, which led to me wondering if she was on FTH which omg she _was_ so ashes and I were super excited to win her auction which made me reread everything again, and then read her new piece today while I was supposed to be working. Long story short, I was filled with so many b/p feels on my drive home from work today that it was sort of inevitable that they'd spill out.
> 
> So, my apologies to [SummerFrost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerFrost/pseuds/SummerFrost/works) who I'm sure I accidentally stole at least something (if not everything) from because I've been drowning in her amazing words so much lately.
> 
> Apologies to my subs who were probably expecting this to be a new chapter of Deep End. Soz, that's coming on the weekend!
> 
> And apologies to myself for not having the strength to resist writing this instead of all the other things I should be working on. Womp womp.
> 
> Thank you to ashes0909 for being a big fucking enabler and betaing.
> 
> And thank you for reading! <3

Bitty turned sharply, just in time to take an elbow to the ribs and a cascade of something cold down the front of his shirt.

"Oh no! Bitty, I'm so sorry," Chowder crooned. "Here, take mine!" He was halfway out of his shirt before Bitty managed to wrestle it back down.

"Don't be silly, honey, I'm fine." He sighed down at the dark stain spreading across the bottom of his t-shirt. "I'll just rinse it out in the bathroom." Wherever that was. So far, he'd seen nothing but the living room and kitchen of this house, and the only mental notes he'd taken were that the beer pong table seemed worryingly permanent and none of the boys who lived here owned a single pie plate between them.

Chowder gave him a sad smile, wincing like a golden retriever who had eaten his own favourite tennis ball, and Bitty patted his arm as he pressed forward. He was moving against the tide of the party, and, being a head and a half shorter than most, it was slow going, working his way to the stairs. Not for the first time, Bitty regretted coming tonight. Between midterms, practice ramping up, an argument he'd had in his YouTube comments the other day, and the Falcs losing today's game to the Aces, he was tired and worn out. He'd have much preferred to go home.

That thought was immediately followed by a wave of guilt. He wasn't here because he'd expected to have a good time. He was here to protect the frogs from a long list of things that included 1) getting lost, 2) getting alcohol poisoning and 3) embarrassing themselves too badly in front of hockey royalty. Bitty had already failed on all three fronts, but they were having a good time, so he was trying not to be too hard on them. Besides, they'd found Nursey two houses down, so at least everyone was accounted for, now.

He wished he'd worn a different shirt, though. He liked this one.

It didn't help number 3 that Bitty was a bit starstruck himself. When Jack had invited them all to the post-game party, hosted by a friend of some of the Aces, Bitty had been torn between wanting to meet his hockey heroes, and knowing that meeting those heroes almost always went badly. Still, the Falcs were cool guys, and Bitty had already met more of them than he'd expected, plus he'd been too busy fishing frogs out of kegstands to meet much of anyone else who might tie his tongue in a knot.

He finally made his way upstairs and started opening doors at random, looking for a bathroom. Bedroom, bedroom, linen closet… lord, did these boys just pee in the backyard like wild animals? He opened the last door in the hallway and lo and behold, it was a bathroom, but there was already someone in it.

"Oh gosh, excuse me! I'm so sorry." Bitty started to close the door, but then he realized that the guy standing in front of the mirror - thank god, fully clothed - was none other than Kent Parson. "Oh my."

Parse grinned at him, eyes flicking up and down Bitty's body. "Always room for one more, cutie."

Blood rushed up and filled Bitty's cheeks until he didn't doubt he was doing a really wonderful tomato impression. "I was just - I only -" he stammered. He gestured at his shirt. "I was just looking for somewhere to rinse this off. Sorry."

"No worries. I didn't lock the door. Come on in and rinse. I'm almost done, and the only other bathroom in this shitheap is Rattie's ensuite and it's probably full of his underwear. No one needs to see that."

Bitty bit his lip. He a little bit wanted to see that, just to say he had, but his stomach was cold and sticky where the spilled soda clung to his skin. He shuffled into the bathroom for lack of anything else to do besides stand there in the hall like a damp idiot, and he turned the tap on then stretched the bottom of his shirt under it, letting the water run through the fabric.

"So why'd they throw a drink at you? Hit on someone's girlfriend?" Parse chirped, and Bitty looked up, finally processing what it was Parse was doing. He was leaning forward to look at himself in the mirror, plucking broken stitches out of a cut across his brow. Underneath, all around his eye, was a nasty shade of dark blue, yellowing at the edges.  

"No. Just wrong place at the wrong time." Bitty bit back a giddy smile. He was actually talking to Kent Parson. "You?"

Parse grinned like a shark. "Oh, I definitely hit on someone's girlfriend. But the shiner's from the game."

Bitty rewound the game in his head, remembering the time Tater had crashed Parse into the boards. "Didn't look that bad from the stands." He winced. "Sorry. Looks like it hurts."

Parse shrugged. "I've had worse. Occupational hazard. How's your shirt?"

Bitty pulled it free of the water stream and squeezed it out. It was almost blue again, but it was definitely going to need a full soak with a stain remover when he got home. "Not too bad."

"You know," Parse drawled, and he was closer now, looking at Bitty instead of the mirror. "Might be easier to rinse it if you took it off."

"Good lord, Kent Parson, are you hitting on me?"

Parse shifted even closer. Bitty could smell the zing of alcohol on his breath, but knew his own was tinged with rum and coke. Parse's eyes were bright and clear and his hands were steady. "Someone going to throw a drink at me if I am?"

Bitty shook his head slowly back and forth.

"Then yes, I very much am."

"Okay," Bitty breathed, and Parse bent down and kissed him. Tingles flushed through Bitty's whole body like a sugar rush. He was in a _bathroom,_ kissing _Kent Parson._ "Good lord," he said again, when Kent pulled back.

"You okay?"

"Yes." Bitty grabbed two handfuls of Parse's shirt and pulled him back in, making him laugh. Their lips met again, and Bitty didn't hold back this time. Parse's hands landed on the counter on either side of Bitty's hips and he pressed forward, locking their bodies together and trapping BItty in his hold. He was warm and tall enough that Bitty felt wrapped up in him but not so tall that he'd put a crick in Bitty's neck. There was nothing hesitant about the way Parse kissed, teasing the seam of Bitty's lips until they parted then licking inside with a soft groan. One hand curled around to drift up Bitty's back and Parse's shoulder hit the door, knocking it nearly closed.

Another wave of guilt washed through Bitty when he realized he was in a _bathroom,_ making out with _Kent Parson_ when he should be looking after the precious frogs. Then again, if they knew where he was, the group chat would be blowing up with supportive gifs and high five emojis so he was able to squash the guilt and go back to the job at hand, trying to tease more soft groans and gasps out from between Parse's warm lips.

Voices drifted closer, then the door bounced halfway open. Parse caught it with one hand and slammed it shut again. "Occupied!" he said against Bitty's mouth, barely pulling away. He grabbed Bitty's hips and hopped him up onto the counter, slotting between his legs and pressing forward again. He broke the kiss and trailed his way down Bitty's jaw to his neck, sucking and nipping. Good lord in heaven, he was going to have a hickey later. That thought pumped straight south, and Bitty couldn't help the little squeak that jumped out, flinching him away from Parse's teasing fingers.

Parse, to his credit, immediately rocked back. "You okay?" His pupils were blown black, lips dark red and wet, and the cut over his brow had started bleeding again which he hadn't seemed to notice. "Too much?" He smiled gently and let Bitty reel him in close again.

"No," Bitty said. Then he bit his lip. "Maybe a little. Or rather - getting close to too much?" Bitty could feel himself curling in a little, nervous and broadcasting it. It had to be fairly obvious, even just from kissing him, that Bitty didn't have much in the way of experience. It wasn't like there was a lineup of boys down the street, waiting to kiss him, and most of the boys he'd wanted to kiss over the years had been as straight as they come. Parse, on the other hand, was clearly not. Apparently. He wondered how many people in the NHL that would be news to. "Sorry."

"No worries," Parse said easily, and Bitty expected him to leave. But instead, he shuffled back between Bitty's knees and picked up the hem of his shirt in both hands. He smoothed out the wet patch that was rapidly cooling against Bitty's stomach with a frown. "Here." He grabbed a hand towel from a cupboard over the toilet and tucked it between Bitty's skin and the wet shirt. He squeezed, and some of the water leaked out. "Doesn't look too bad," he muttered.

"This does though," Bitty said, his hand reaching up of its own accord to brush over Parse's forehead, just skirting around the bleeding cut.

Parse twisted to look at himself in the mirror over Bitty's shoulder. "Shit."

"Why were you pulling out your stitches, anyway? For heaven's sake, they put them there for a reason." Bitty tilted to the side, nearly onto his stomach, latching his knees around Parse's hips to keep his balance, then flushing as he realized he was koala bear-ing onto a total stranger. Did he still count as a total stranger now that he'd had this tongue down Bitty's throat? Bitty grabbed a handful of toilet paper and straightened up again. He dabbed it at the cut, lip caught between his teeth.

"Scars better if you pull them out," Parse said, eyes twinkling. "Gotta look badass for the Aces pin-up calendar. Wouldn't I look sexier with a scar?"

Bitty frowned disapprovingly at him. "You know very well that you are plenty sexy without a scar," he muttered.

Parse's smile deepened and his hand wandered up Bitty's thigh. "I was actually just trying to get the one on the end out. It broke during today's fight and I was too lazy to get it redone, but it was almost healed there, and they itch like a motherfucker. I tried to get that one out and fucked everything up. Kind of my motto, really. When in doubt, fuck it all up."

Bitty ran the wad of toilet paper under the tap and started dabbing again. "Don't be silly. You don't fuck everything up. There, that's a little better. Is there a first aid kit in here?"

"Uhh, maybe?" Parse stepped away to dig through the cupboard, and Bitty immediately missed his heat. "Here!" He pulled a small, white case out and put it on the counter next to Bitty's hip. Bitty popped it open and rustled around until he found a strip of butterfly bandages.

"This'll keep you in one piece, for now, at least."

Parse tucked in between Bitty's knees again, and Bitty shifted up to the edge of the counter to press closer. "Thank you," Parse breathed, very much saying something else.

Bitty swallowed heavily, willing his lungs to continue expanding. To cover his nerves, he focused on peeling a strip off the sheet and taping Parse's forehead back together. "You need to take better care of yourself, Mr. Parson," he chastised gently, and Parse cupped his jaw and kissed him again.

Bitty's fingers wandered backwards through Parse's hair, then he dropped his arms to wrap them around his neck and draw him closer. He felt sky-high and buzzing, like that wild feeling after a really good win, when the team was closing in, ready to smash into him and wrap around him in a celebratory hug. Or the moment of airtime during an axel, when everything stopped for a heartbeat and just hung there, gravity-free. Parse backed off a bit, and Bitty whimpered, making him chuckle.

"So where'd you come from, anyway, cutie?"

Bitty tried to catch his breath. "Oh, I'm an old friend of Jack's? Jack Zimmerman? From Samwell. I'm here frog-minding. Oh, bless them, they're probably up to so much trouble. I should really go check on them. I'm just grateful we didn't let the tadpoles come. I've got my hands full as it is."

"Alright." Parse stepped back and held Bitty's hand as he hopped down off the counter. He pulled his flannel off, leaving him in a grey t-shirt that left just the right amount to the imagination re: his hockey abs, and tucked it around Bitty's shoulders. "Wouldn't want you to get cold, wet shirt and all."

"Now you'll get cold," Bitty protested weakly, already sliding his arms through the sleeves and clutching it close. He was caught between _a boy just gave me his flannel to wear,_ and _Kent fucking Parson just gave me his flannel to wear._

"Nah." There was that deadly grin again. "Be a while til I cool down, actually." He winked. "You wanted to check on your friends?"

"Oh right. Sorry." Bitty hustled everything back into the first aid kit and Parse put it away.

Parse followed him out of the bathroom and to the top of the stairs. The floor vibrated with the pounding of the music downstairs. "So… is getting your number part of the first aid services? You know, in case I have questions about my care." He gestured to his cut, eyes twinkling, eyelashes fluttering demurely.

Bitty shook his head with a smile. "You give your number to random fans you make out with in house party bathrooms?"

"Surprisingly, that doesn't happen all that often." Parse shuffled a little closer until Bitty was backed up against the banister. "There was just something irresistible about you…" He blinked down at Bitty like he'd startled even himself with those words.

Bitty pulled out his phone and handed it over. "I'm Bitty, by the way. Eric Bittle."

Parse took the phone and started typing something into it. "Kent Parson."

"Oh," Bitty said, "I know."

"Yeah, I know." Parse laughed lightly. "I just like hearing people say it."

Bitty smacked him on the arm. "You are awful."

"Hey, you're the one making out with strangers in the bathroom." Kent took out his own phone and waited while Bitty typed his number in under "Bitty ;)" and handed it back.

They hovered there for a moment. "I really should go check on the frogs. They shouldn't stay out too late. We have practice tomorrow morning."

"Okay." Parse's eyes cut down to Bitty's mouth and he tipped forward, hands in his pockets as he stole another kiss, soft and chaste this time. "I'm gonna crash for the night, but text me if you need a hand down there, alright?"

"Okay. Thank you."

"It was nice to meet you, Bitty," Parse said, grin brightening his eyes again.

"You too," Bitty squeaked. Parse wandered off down the hall and Bitty watched him go, trying very hard - and completely failing - to keep his eyes above sea level. "Good lord." Bitty shook himself and hustled downstairs, hoping the frogs would be too drunk to realize he was wearing one more shirt than he'd gone upstairs with. At least it was one more, instead of one less, like - "Oh, for heaven's sake - Chowder, _where are your pants?!"_

While Bitty was loading sloppy teammates into the cab, his phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, wondering who would be texting him at 1am when most people he knew were either here, or asleep back at the Haus.

_Go out with me next Saturday? We're in town again._

Bitty stared at his phone. Parse had apparently put himself in his contacts under "Hockey Hottie with a Sexy Scar."

Bitty fiddled with his phone case for a moment, trying to decide what to say. It was one thing to have a slightly tipsy makeout session in a bathroom at a party. Entirely another to agree to a date.

 _Well, I need to give you your shirt back,_ he finally settled on, palms sweating.

 _Wear it,_ Parse texted back almost immediately _You can leave it on my floor. ;)_

_You are awful._

_Is that a yes?_

_Yes._

Parse's next text was a four-line stream of emojis that included a fist bump, a kiss, three different cats, a tree, an eggplant, an alien, and a cup of coffee.

_I have no idea what you mean by that._

Parse didn't text back right away, so Bitty did a headcount of the backseat of the cab, then climbed in the front seat and curled up with his phone, scrolling through his twitter feed. He snuggled down in Parse's flannel, letting himself tip his nose into the collar to breathe in his scent. Bitty's alcohol buzz had faded and soft sleepiness washed over him.

His text chimed again as the cab stopped at a red light.

_It means I'm really pumped to get to know you. I know I kinda have a rep for being a big slut, but you're nice and funny and super hot, and I just_   
_I'm excited for our date, that's all.  
It's dumb, I know. But lots of people want to make out, not a lot of people want to get coffee in the harsh light of day. So I appreciate it. Even if it is just to give me my shirt back._

Bitty grinned at his phone, the backseat was nothing but soft snoring as the frogs ran out of steam, one by one. _Aww, honey, that's not dumb at all. I'm excited too. I'm really glad I met you tonight._

_Me too._

_Take care of that cut, Mr. Parson. Put some Neosporin on it tomorrow. I think you're very sexy, no scar needed._

_Will do - just for you. Night, Bitty._

_Goodnight._

Bitty turned to look out the window, unable to tamp down his wild grin. Despite the dark, wet patch on his shirt, the stickiness on the bottom of his shoes, the twinge in his back from helping Dex into the cab, and the truly shocking lack of sleep he was going to get tonight, he found it really, really hard to regret going to the party.


End file.
